Nodding, I make my way through the doors, leaving Daddy behind me.
The music is fun, and I can already feel the bounce in my step as I make my way over to the drink area to order myself something.
I wave for the bartender’s attention, and shout over the music. “Shirley Temple,” I say, pulling some money out of my purse. “Extra cherries.”
When I get my drink, I sit on a bar stool and watch everyone on the dance floor. The colored lights bounce off the walls, illuminating the dancers. It’s then I notice how differently I’m dressed in comparison to everyone else. Is that why Daddy asked if I wanted to change into something different? Because he knew I wouldn’t fit in?
It dawns on me then that I don’t really fit in anywhere—not out at the bar Daddy is sitting at or even in here where everyone is my own age.
The longer I sit here, the more uncomfortable I get, and I fidget in my seat. If Daddy was here, he’d put his hand on my leg and grip it tightly to calm me, but he isn’t here.
“Want to dance?”
There’s a boy standing next to me. I didn’t even see him there. He’s taller than me, but my Daddy probably has at least three inches on him. He’s got blond shaggy hair and blue eyes like me, but his are a shade deeper in color. He’s wearing white board shorts and a pink polo shirt, and for some reason I don’t like the look. I mean, I love pink, but it looks way better on me than it does on him. How would he ever get a girl dressed like that, I wonder. He should definitely look into getting a suit like Daddy has. Maybe cut his hair.
Not waiting for an answer, he grabs me by the hand, pulling me towards the dance floor. He pushes his body close against mine as he rubs his body on me.
“Hey! You can’t touch me like that,” I snap, pushing back from him. Daddy would be so mad! No one is allowed to touch me like that, not to mention I don’t like it. It feels wrong and different.
“Don’t be such a prude. I did you a favor asking you to dance. You look fucking ridiculous sitting at the bar by yourself dressed like that.” He’s loud over the music, and he gestures wildly at my outfit. Embarrassment fills me, but it’s not like how Daddy embarrasses me. This is so different and it hurts.
Looking around, I can see he’s right, though. All the other girls are wearing short dresses, which show off most of their bodies. Their hair and makeup all done up. I’m probably the only person in here wearing sneakers. Or pigtails, for that matter.
He tries to pull me close again, but I push at his chest, making him bump into the person behind him. I take the opportunity to run from the club. This was nothing like I thought it would be, and I just want to go back to my Daddy, even if it means sitting in that stupid restaurant again. I’ll fake a smile, I don’t care, as long as I get to be by him.
I thought it would be fun to dance around and sing to the music but this is nothing like the dance party I have at home with Daddy. I thought he’d be coming with me, and when I spot him at the bar, he’s sitting between a man and a woman and they are all talking. He lets out the deep laugh I love, and I feel a lump form in my throat.
I can’t give him that. I made our outing last night boring as I pouted through half of the meal. When the elegant woman puts her hand on his arm, I feel a tear run down my cheek. He suddenly looks up, as if he senses me, and our eyes meet.
I run.
9
WILLIAM
I see Haley run, and I stand up to follow her. “Excuse me,” I call over my shoulder as I leave the bar and chase after my little.
I make it down to the beach before I can catch her, and I scoop her up in my arms. She’s throwing a fit and kicking out against me. I take her over to one of the cabanas and lay her down, pinning her arms by her side and trying to control her outburst.
“Haley, stop! Calm down, little one. What happened? Tell me what’s wrong.”
She won’t look at me as she cries. She’s breathing hard, and I look her over to make sure she hasn’t been physically hurt.
“Haley, honey, tell me what happened. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“No! I’m just a big dummy, that’s all. I’m just some immature kid who doesn’t know shit.”
“Language, young lady.” I hate to be stern with her when she’s so upset, but she doesn’t normally talk that way. “What happened in the club? Talk to me.”
“You were right. I was dressed so stupid. I looked like a joke. All I wanted to do was get back to you, but then you were at the bar with those old people, and I didn’t fit in there either. I don’t fit in anywhere. What’s wrong with me?”
She starts to sob, and I sit her up, curling her up in my lap and letting her cry. I rub her back and make shushing noises, trying to give her comfort when she’s clearly hurting so much. “Let it out, little one. Let it all out.”
It takes a few minutes before her big sobs turn into little sniffles. I lean down and kiss the top of her head, folding her in closer to me. “You fit perfectly right here, little one.”
I feel her nod her head, but she still doesn’t speak. This is the hardest part of our DD/lg relationship; knowing when to allow her to learn things for herself and knowing when to step in.
“Haley, my sweet love, you don’t have to fit in anywhere but with me. It’s okay if you try new things. This is a part of life, trying new things and discovering what works. I want us to be able to do everything together, but the reality is that sometimes you have to see for yourself. The things I love the most about you are how young and spirited you are. I love your brattiness and the fact that you own your feelings. If you want to pout, you pout. And if you want to stamp your foot, you definitely stamp your foot.”